Prince for a Day
by gorgonmaid
Summary: Merlin finds himself trapped in the last place he would ever expect. Can Merlin survive being prince for a day?


**Prince for a Day**

_Magic is a tool, albeit a powerful one. It is most often wielded by those seeking to do good, or those seeking to do evil. Sometimes, however, in spite of the true intentions of the wielder, magic seeks its own ends - for its own reasons._

"_Mer_lin, hold the target up - no like this," Arthur bellowed before charging across the field and wresting the wooden target from the boy's hands. "If you hold it too low, I could take your eye out and if you hold it too high, then someone will likely hit you in the leg!" he added before thrusting the large wooden disk back into his servant's hands.

"Your _highness_, why can't we lean it against the post and you can shoot at it all day without any threat to me, my eyes or my knees," Merlin groaned, the heavy wooden target slipping from his grasp and landing squarely on his toes. "Ouch!"

"Because, Merlin, we need a _moving _target as you well know," said Arthur, exasperated after a long day in the hot sun and a poor target on which to practice. "Just, go on, get out of here. Go brush down my horse. We'll find someone else to do the job. Maybe there is a pig nearby…likely to have more brains than you," the prince said and jerked the target off the ground with one hand. Merlin bowed briefly and limped off across the field to stable.

_"__Why does he have to treat me that way?"_ Merlin thought to himself, not for the first time in their relationship. He collected the brushes and led the horse to shady spot near the wall of the castle.

Saving the life of the prince should, he thought, have seen him rewarded with wealth or power commensurate to the greatness of his act. Instead, he was rewarded with a life of servitude to someone he could not understand and did not hold in very high regard.

He spent some time brushing the dark horse down and then returned it to the stable. He returned to his room where he found Gaius working over his work bench concocting a tincture that smelled of elderberries and ginger root.

"You know, you would think that after I saved his life, he would treat me better than…better than…."

"…a _servant_?" Gaius asked placing the stopper on the bottle and putting it in his medicine bag.

"Exactly!" Merlin snorted.

"But my boy, you _are _his servant."

"Yes, but would it kill him to treat me a little better? He has no idea what I go through every day in his service. He does not know that I have saved his life more than once. He has no idea at all about what it takes to be a servant to the likes of him."

"Do not imagine that his life is all roses and sunshine either, Merlin," Gaius said seriously. "And though it may not feel like it right now, I think you know what an honour serving him is, and one day you will be grateful for your place at his side - and so will he be."

"I know, I know, my great destiny at his royal dollop-head's side," the boy agreed grumpily. "Some destiny that is," he finished as he went into his room and shut the door behind him.

The night fell and through the small, high window of his bedroom, a shaft of bright moonlight blazed in lighting a page from the book of spells that lay open at his side. Merlin's eyes flickered shut and he rolled over. His hand came to rest on a picture of a magical token. It was a coin drawn in such a way that both sides of it were visible at the same time. Each side had a face: one side grim and fey and the other wild-eyed and raging. He had been reading the page only seconds before and as he slipped into sleep, his finger traced around the edge of the coin drawing. He whispered the word inscribed below the image, "Behwearft …"

The sun entered the window at an odd angle. It was too bright in his room and Merlin pulled the sheets up and over his head. His bed seemed larger and softer than it had ever before and he was loath to leave the warmth and comfort of its depths. But duty called and soon enough, and the sun enforced its will. He yawned and stretched and put his feet over the edge of the bed.

It was much farther down to the ground than he remembered, but finally he felt the sun-warmed stone beneath his feet. He stood and, moving forward, he bumped into a bedpost. He rubbed his eyes and surveyed the room. He was quickly aware that he was not in his own room. He was in Arthur's room. Confused and disoriented, he looked back into the bed for the prince. But Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

_"__Good thing, that. Don't suppose he'd appreciate me sleeping in his bed!" _he thought to himself. And then he thought, _"How in the world did I get here? Have I started sleepwalking in my exhaustion?"_

He took a moment to make the bed and then went to the cupboard to lay out Arthur's clothes for the day. He briefly speculated about what Arthur was wearing at the moment, and just where the prince was at this very early time of the morning, and finally why he was sleeping in the prince's bed and as he did so, he passed by the mirror mounted on the wall near the changing screen.

"Oh, you scared me," Merlin cried seeing Arthur's image reflected in the mirror. He turned, but he was alone in the room. He looked back in the mirror only to see the prince's face reflected there again. "What the -?" Merlin said, turning sharply around again. A thought suddenly occurred to him - a dark and frightening thought. He turned slowly back to the mirror and raised his hand. In the reflection, Arthur raised a hand. Merlin ran his hand through his hair - as did the reflection.

"_Oh no, oh no, oh no…"_ Merlin thought, wild imaginings creeping in around the edges of his mind. He peeked again at the glass, but there was no denying it. He had Arthur's face and body by the looks of it.

_"__But if I am him…is he me?"_ he thought suddenly. Grabbing a shirt and trousers, Merlin dressed hurriedly and darted out the door.

"My lord," called Sir Medwyn as Merlin/Arthur narrowly missed colliding with him, "There are some issues with the new armour. The joints are too stiff and the men can't swing their arms as high as-"

"-Uh…Sir Medwyn…,"Merlin heard himself say with the prince's voice, "Can we speak later? I have an urgent matter to attend to."

"Yes, sire, but there are other issues with the new shields from Agthwaite. They are too small and the metal is-"

"Sorry, Sir Medwyn…later?" Merlin mumbled again, trying to outpace the knight.

"Of course, my lord," Medwyn replied as his prince broke into a full sprint down the hallway leaving him behind.

"Gaius!" Merlin shouted as he burst through the door of their shared quarters.

"My lord, what is it?" the older man inquired while rising, still in his dressing gown, from his cot in the main room.

"Gaius, it's me!" the wizard shouted, throwing himself at the man's knees and shaking.

"Yes, your highness I can see that it is you. How may I help you? Are you feeling ill?"

"Ill? Well, you could say that. Gaius, it is me Merlin."

"Very amusing, my lord, he would like to hear you say that, I think. Shall I fetch him?"

"Fetch him? Is the prince here?"

"Arthur. Calm yourself. What is the matter?"

"Gaius - I am not sure how to convince you except by this," Merlin said and held his hand out. However, nothing happened. The water pitcher at which he was aiming his unfamiliar fingers remained unmoved.

"Really, sire, let me get your father-"

"No, no Gaius it really is me. How can I - I know. The first day we met, the very first day - I came in to see you and you fell from the ladder. I saved you by moving the bed to break your fall. Would Arthur know that?"

The older man sat down hard on the bed and shook his head. "But how can that be?" he asked as much to himself as the boy.

"I am not exactly sure, to tell you the truth," Merlin replied. He walked quietly to the door of his own room and looked in. There he was, asleep in his own bed, the book he had been reading face down with the pages bent under it. "But if I am in here, he must be in there. And if he wakes up, well he may be a prat, but even a prat will figure out what has happened eventually."

"We must keep him asleep, then, until you get this sorted out."

"Yes, but I can't do magic. These fingers are like sausages!" Merlin lamented, pointing the prince's thick, strong fingers around the room helplessly. They were built for holding a sword not doing magic.

"Well, I still have some of my own magic - potions I mean - perhaps I can make a sleeping draught that will keep him out for a while."

"Yes…good…then we will have to figure out just what happened and how to reverse it," Merlin agreed taking a seat on Gaius's cot.

"What were you doing just before you went to bed?" the older man asked as his fingers deftly measured out the necessary ingredients in their proper portions.

"I was reading a book of incantations…I'll get it," Merlin said while quickly sprinting up the stone steps to his room. Inside the room, he could see his body stirring in the small cot.

_"__I wonder if I make that much noise when I sleep,"_ he thought as he gently raised the book from the floor, carefully smoothing down the bent pages. "Here, it was this book."

"Alright, but first give me a hand getting this into the prince before he wakes up."

The two men crept quietly into the room and slowly dripped the tonic into Arthur/Merlin's open mouth. He snorted, swallowed and seemed to fall into a deeper sleep immediately.

"Which spell were you looking at exactly?" Gaius asked once they had left the sleeping prince and closed the door behind themselves.

"Let me…yes, I think it was this one," the boy replied, turning the book towards the old healer.

"Ah…yes…the exchanging spell. That would explain it."

"What? I did this?"

"I am afraid so, Merlin. The exchanging spell has been used for centuries. It allows one to see the world from the point of view of another. In the old religion, wise men and women would cast the spell on an enemy – or sometimes even a friend - in order for both to understand each other better. Ah…and according to this book, you will have to wait until the conditions are the same; for example, it must be the same time of the evening with the moon in the same place on you and on the book and then you must speak the reversing spell, here."

"So until I am stuck in this body all day?"

"Yes, I think so. Perhaps it won't be so bad."

"Bad? Maybe I'll finally get the treatment I deserve."

"Careful what you wish for, my boy," Gaius said, returning to his work.

Back out in the castle, Merlin strutted around like he owned the place, which to everyone else's eyes, he did.

"Good morning," he called to the guards and the servants. He clasped arms with every knight he saw and went to the kitchen to get the best food available. The cook, usually nothing less than surly to him as Merlin, smiled girlishly and offered him a sample of delights from every platter. He ate like a prince that morning, a _king_ even.

After he had eaten his fill, he strutted off to his usual daily practice on the field. He wondered if 'Arthur' would need to feign an injury early on – or end up suffering a real injury at Merlin's inexperienced hands.

He passed a flock of young ladies gathered at the edge of the practice field. He smiled and they giggled, waving their handkerchiefs at him. As Merlin, they would not have looked at him twice. However, as the prince and heir to Camelot, all eyes were on him.

He could immediately feel Arthur's body was much stronger and more agile than his own thin form. He warmed up slowly, swinging the heavy sword in circles. He held his breath for a moment as the first knight approached and slashed at him. Although he lacked the personal knowledge of many of the fighting moves, it seemed Arthur's body knew them well enough for Merlin to get through the session with very little trouble.

"You looked good today, sire. More relaxed than you usually are," commented Medwyn.

"Really? Do I usually seem tense?"

"Not exactly _tense_, sire, but…never mind – you looked like you were having some fun, that's all."

"I suppose it was _fun…_in way…thanks, Sir Medwyn. Ehrm…I can't seem to find _Merlin_, so I am not sure what I am supposed to do next…any ideas?"

Medwyn looked a mite surprised, but then said, "I believe you are meeting with your father and some emissaries from Bernicia to discuss a treaty."

"Right, yes, of course…the treaty with Bernicia," Merlin pretended to concur. "And that would be in the…" he trailed off, his arm pointing vaguely towards the castle.

"…Throne room, sire."

"Of course…a bit dollop-headed this morning…," Merlin relied and then turned to make his way into the throne room.

Uther was on his throne, his long red cape trailing out from under his body and cascading down the front of the throne like a red woolen waterfall. The king's ornate golden crown was pressed firmly down on his head as if he believed someone seemed likely to reach up and try to snatch it off.

"Where have you been?" the older man asked as Merlin/Arthur skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Umm…" Merlin replied.

"Good lord, can't you come up with a better response than 'Umm…'?"

"Umm…" Merlin replied again. The king rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

"King Fendor of Bernicia will be here immediately. Try not to make a fool out of both of us again," Uther growled.

"Sorry, father. I will try not to. But you know I had a lot to do today," Merlin began to explain.

"Silence! I'll hear none of your excuses. I have vowed to make a man and a king of you – and by the stars of heaven I'll do it, but let it be known that it will be no easy feat."

Merlin was stunned. He had never heard Uther speak to Arthur in this way before. Merlin felt his cheeks redden and his chest tighten. He wondered if Uther spoke to his son in that fashion regularly when there was no one around to hear it.

"Stand here," Uther growled as the pages announced the coming of the King of Bernicia.

"Fendor, my friend," Uther said, rising and clasping the man's wrist tightly.

"Uther, good to see you," the man replied.

Merlin used all his strength to keep his eyes open during the council meeting. He sat in the hardest chair; he pressed a fork into his thigh a few times trying to use the pain to keep his eyes open. When he began to drift off 3 hours in to the meeting, he suddenly started awake and snorted loudly. Uther stared daggers at him and then smiled apologetically at Fendor.

"Still very much a boy in many ways," Uther explained, his tight, humourless smile never reaching up to his eyes.

"I have three of my own," Fendor said. "They are never quite what you expect." Then the two kings bent back over the array of papers spread on the large table between them.

It was nearly dinner when King Fendor finally took his leave. Merlin stood beside Uther as the visiting king and his knights turned and galloped out of Camelot's large, open stone square.

"I expected better, Arthur. But then, I often do and am just as often disappointed. This is no joke – and you are no longer a boy. The next time we parlay with another kingdom, I expect you to pay attention and learn something for a change," the king growled under his breath, and then turned and marched back into the castle.

Merlin had imagined that Arthur was treated like royalty by everyone all the time, but that was clearly not the case. Uther treated Arthur worse than Arthur treated Merlin. He pondered that thought for a while, then walked down into the lower town.

As Merlin, he was among equals in the town, well met and kindly greeted. As Arthur he drew a great deal of attention, but not much of it positive. Few people met his eyes as he passed by them. Those who did look at him often seemed less than congenial. Looks of envy, jealousy and greed were intermingled with fear and hate.

"Looking good this evening, my Lord," one young lady cooed from the shadows.

"Aye, he is," laughed another. Merlin smiled briefly, and then slowly realized the kind of women they were and stopped smiling.

Suddenly an old woman lurched out of a doorway, clawed at his legs and cried, "My Lord, please, please help me. My husband is dead and I have children to feed - so many mouths to feed!"

"Sorry," Merlin responded, trying to gently pull the woman off his legs. "What can I do to help?"

"If you are going to help 'er, you'd better help me, too," a man barked out, staggering into the street from an alley. "I got more kids then 'er," he continued, now pulling on Merlin's sleeve.

There were more and more of them - crawling out of the woodwork and up from the gutters. Everyone wanted – no demanded - something of him: money, help, food, clothes. It went on for some time until finally a few citadel guards came and pulled their prince away from them.

"Why do they have so little?" he asked Sir Medwyn as the made their way through the crowd and back toward the castle. "What do they want me to do about it?"

"You need not do anything, my Lord. There are services for the poor. Those are the ones that do not take advantage of what we offer. They don't want food sir, you know that."

"There were so many…"

"Yes, sir," Medwyn agreed. "If I may, my Lord, you have seemed a bit off your game today. Maybe you should go back to your quarters and rest."

"What? Rest? Uh…Yes, maybe I should go and see Gaius," Merlin responded. "Maybe a sleeping draught or…" he said quietly, turning away from the knight and bolting through the hallways towards his own quarters.

Rounding a corner, he stopped sharply as he bumped into someone. "My Lord," Gwen said, stumbling back from him, dropping her basket and lowering her eyes in apology.

"G-G-Gwen, I am so glad to see you," Merlin stuttered, forgetting for a moment who he was – or who he appeared to be.

"Beg your pardon, sire," she went on, stooping to retrieve the sheets he had carelessly knocked from her hands.

"Let me help you," he offered, bending down and pulling the sheets from the stone floor.

"No, my Lord, please. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't. It was mine. Please let me help you. I would like to do something right today," he begged. Hearing Arthur's voice coming from his mouth was still strange to his ears, and especially speaking such humble words.

Gwen nodded and allowed him to help her collect the sheets. She placed them back in the basket and then quietly thanked him for his help. "Thank you, sire," she whispered. Merlin held her hand to help her onto her feet.

"You're welcome, Gwen," he said. Gwen had become a great friend to Merlin during his short time in Camelot. She had always shown him such kindness and friendship. Perhaps there was a part of him that wondered if there wasn't or couldn't be something more than friendship between them.

But when Gwen looked up at him, at Arthur really, Merlin saw something in Gwen's eyes that he had never seen before when she looked at him. She looked at 'Arthur' with a breathless admiration and esteem that he, Merlin, would never warrant. He knew that even though she had denied an attraction to Arthur on more than one occasion, there was something about him that Gwen was drawn to. It was instantly apparent that although she might grow to love Merlin as a friend, Gwen would never look at him as Merlin the way she was looking at him as Arthur. He smiled down at her and she smiled shyly in return, her cheeks flushing under his gaze. After a moment, she quickly averted her eyes, curtsied and went past him, down the hall, and out of sight.

Two ladies of the court, close enough to hear the exchange, passed by him. They smiled and were beautifully dressed, so Merlin turned to follow them at a discrete distance. He would never have any chance with them as Merlin, he thought to himself, but why not try his luck as Arthur. Before he rounded the last corner, he heard them talking.

"Did you see her - the servant girl? Fawning over the bloody prince," said the first, a rather tall blonde.

"I saw it," the shorter red head replied, "And what was he playing at. He seemed to be enjoying it! Maybe I'll throw a grain sack on and take a run at his lordship." The two women cackled as Merlin stopped just out of sight.

"I am not sure even the wealth and power of Camelot is worth spending 10 minutes with that clot!" the blonde replied, and they laughed again.

"Some girl will. If we are lucky she'll be a cleaning lady or a chamber maid!" the red head cried. "Well, it won't matter who the Prince wants to choose – we are all aware that Uther will do the choosing," she finished.

Merlin pressed his back against the wall and the women passed out of his range of hearing.

"Maybe it is not as easy to be the prince as I thought," Merlin surmised.

The night had drenched the sky in the darkest blue, and stars glittered brightly as the moon crested the edge of the highest parapet.

"Gaius," Merlin called as he opened the door to their chambers.

"It's about time you got back," Gaius called, outlined in the doorway of Merlin's room with a frying pan clutched tightly in his right hand.

"What were you doing with that?" Merlin asked.

"I didn't have time for another draught," the old man explained, raising his hand and mimicking crashing it down on someone's head.

"Ouch, that's going to hurt in the morning. He is not going to be pleased."

"Well, it is _your_ head, so…" the old physician reasoned and threw the pan onto his bed.

"Ouch," Merlin repeated, and raised a hand to his future wound.

"It's almost time. You'd better get back to the Prince's room soon. Take the book, but be sure to hide it after you say the incantation."

"I will," said Merlin thoughtfully. "You know, I learned a lot about Arthur today. I mean I still think he is a prat, but…"

"You realized his life is not so easy," Gaius offered.

"No. It isn't an easy life. Everybody wants something from him. Everybody wants his advice or his help. And Uther, when no one is looking, he can be almost cruel."

"He is rather hard on the prince, but be careful not to judge Uther too hard, either."

"No, I suppose not. Who can truly understand another person's life? It occurs to me that I may be the only person Arthur feels comfortable enough around to express his emotions to. He can't talk back to his father; he can't tell his people to leave him alone; he can't even love whom he wants to love. Maybe all he can do is scold me."

"Maybe. Maybe it is your great destiny to be his whipping post," said Gaius.

"Great - a whipping post. Lots of dignity in that," Merlin sighed.

"He would never tell you, my boy, but he needs you. You may be the only person he truly trusts. It will not come off as trust, but that is what it is."

"I know," Merlin sighed in agreement.

"You've got the spell book? And you know the page?"

"Yes, Gaius. Hmm…" Merlin said thoughtfully looking at the drawing in the book.

"What?" Gaius asked looking over his shoulder.

"Two sides of one coin," Merlin said.

"Indeed."

"It's just that…someone said that very phrase to me recently," Merlin replied closing the book and tucking it under his jacket.

"Who did?" Gaius asked as Merlin moved toward the door.

"Who did?" the boy echoed. He wondered whether Gaius would believe it was the great dragon locked away beneath the castle and toyed momentarily with the idea of telling him. However, Merlin decided discretion was required and merely said, "No one – nothing," quickly before darting out the door.

He took the book, and made his way back to the prince's room. The halls were empty save a few guards and servants finally headed to their quarters for the night.

The prince's room was large and well furnished, but it was cold, too. It was an accurate reflection of Arthur's life in many ways. Grand – but essentially empty. The only ember of warmth was from a portrait of his mother, Igraine. It sat near the prince's bedside encircled by a fine golden frame. Her life had been too short. Had she lived, perhaps Arthur's life would have had more love, more warmth and more kindness in it.

Merlin lay back in the bed, the muscles of Arthur's strong body finally relaxing into the soft, downy warmth of the bed beneath him, which was covered in the finest linen sheets. Of all the things Merlin had learned about the prince that day, the one thing he felt most sure about was that he, Merlin, was meant to be at Arthur's side. He would always be proud to serve the prince, no matter what happened.

The moon crept through the window some time later and Merlin placed his hand on the page of the book. He whispered quietly, "Edhwierft…," then slipped the book beneath the prince's bed, and drifted off in to the peace of sleep…

…only to wake up in his own rather small, hard and modest bed, much to his delight and relief. The bed, and the life that came with it, were simple and without flourish. As far as the wide world was concerned, neither the bed, nor the life, had much to live up to and so, Merlin reasoned, neither could do anything less than surpass all expectations.


End file.
